


Best Served Cold

by cazflibs



Series: The Glitches and the Glows [2]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Established Relationship, Highly inappropriate holo-simulated orgasms, M/M, Revenge Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: “Lister scowled past tight lips. Despite the desperate instinct that begged him to retaliate with jibes or insults, he remained steadfastly quiet. Ohhh no. In this particular case, just like the man’s nemesis of a soup, revenge was a dish best served cold."





	Best Served Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felineranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/gifts), [LordValeryMimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordValeryMimes/gifts).



> Lest we ever forget that, even in a slashy established relationship, Rimmer will always be a bit of an arsehole and Lister will always be there to bring him down a peg or two. 
> 
> Dedicated to LordValeryMimes (allsortsofsmeg) and felineranger - whose combined forces of smut I could only ever hope to emulate.

Lister let out a tired, bodily sigh of relief that had been six days in the making.

He may have been the last human in the universe, but when he'd been subjected to a week of polymorph attacks, GELF hostage situations, disintegrating derelicts and Rimmer’s three-hour group seminar on Health & Safety, he rather enjoyed these rare moments alone.

Especially when it meant he could enjoy a much-needed, stress-dissolving, confidence-affirming wank.

Just as the eternal darkness of space stretched silently across _Starbug’s_ viewscreen, the cockpit lights were similarly low and quiet. Ship-time dictated that it was approaching 1am as Lister sat in the pilot seat on a lone vigil; one that he’d been more than happy to take up given their week from hell.

With auto-pilot engaged, he sank back deeply into the warm leather of the seat to better feel the distant buzzing that resonated from the ship’s engines. His crotch hummed its appreciations before saluting its thanks as a solicitous hand slipped southwards and into his trousers.

He allowed a blissful sigh to escape as he trailed his fingers across his balls, rubbing a teasing thumb across the head before settling into a relaxed, pumping rhythm. Thanks to such an eventful few days, he'd hardly spent two minutes alone with Rimmer. They'd either been engaged in full-on leg it mode or crashing out, exhausted, in separate bunks at completely different times.

Lister’s mind dredged up a welcome image of the hologram glancing up at him from between his splayed thighs with that suggestive eyebrow of his - his breath hitched as he pumped faster - licking a slow path of intent up the length of his shaft...

He was so engulfed in the fantasy that he didn't hear his approach until the nasal notes sang in his ear.

“Your hands appear to be on the wrong joystick there, miladdo.”

“SMEGGING HELL!” Lister jumped like a startled cartoon cat; his guilty hand whipping out of his trousers so quickly that his ring threatened to grant him a sample-size thatch wax. “Rimmer, man, you scared the life outta me!” he panted. “What the smeg are y’doin’ here?”

Rimmer regarded him strangely. “I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd knock out those navigation plots before tomorrow's shift.” He smirked unashamedly. “I guess there's no need to ask what _you're_ currently knocking out. I mean, I know it's the _cock_ pit, but -- ”

Lister closed his eyes despairingly, hand held aloft as if to rein back some choice words. “Do y’think you’re capable of laying off the double entendres for just one minute?”

“Are _you_ capable of laying off it for just one minute?” Rimmer folded his arms, eyeing his package warily. “Good grief, you have the sexual inhibitions of a male baboon.”

Lister’s mouth dropped open in affront but counted silently to five before allowing himself to speak. If it wasn't for the fact that the hologram’s tongue was even more skilled at pleasuring him than it was berating him, he'd be giving it both barrels. 

“ _Rimmer_ ,” he intoned, “I was just having a sneaky wank, okay? At night. Alone in the cockpit. I was hardly knocking one out in the middle of trading negotiations with the Kinitowawi.”

“If you're in the cockpit, then you're on duty, Lister - ” The hologram tapped an authoritative finger on the console beside him. “ - as a representative of this vessel. And as such, you are expected to be committed to the cause at all times.”

Lister’s face hardened at the less-than-friendly tone before regarding him quizzically. “ _So_ ,” he drawled, “I'm guessin’ the time I gave you a blow job in the Drive Room doesn't count for you?”

Rimmer’s feathers visibly ruffled. “Can I help it if you're so easily distracted with personal matters? Whereas _some_ of us endeavour to keep our professional and personal lives separate.”

Lister shot him a withering look. “Professional?” he echoed despairingly.

“Yes! _Professionalism_ , Lister. Look it up. It is in the dictionary.”

“Is it next to _prick_ , by any chance?”

Rimmer rolled his eyes in pointed disgust. “Does everything have to be about genitalia with you? Honestly, it's unbelievably juvenile.”

Lister scowled past tight lips. Despite the desperate instinct that begged him to retaliate with jibes or insults, he remained steadfastly quiet. 

_Ohhh no_. In this particular case, just like the man’s nemesis of a soup, revenge was a dish best served cold.

Instead, Lister had channelled his frustrations into the intricate planning and detailing that would be required in order to execute it. He pored over the A.I. chapters of his Robotics revision books for two days solid to garner more information on how to bring his plan to life.

As he heard the familiar, marching footsteps approach the door to the Sleeping Quarters, Lister kept his gaze steadfastly on the table as he snapped the book shut; not a moment too soon before the tall figure emerged through the doorway. 

A simulated breath tickled his ear as Rimmer bent down to rest his chin over his shoulder. “What are you up to?” 

Lister’s heart sank guiltily at the warmth of the gesture. “Studyin’,” he mumbled stiffly, now quite convinced that his true intentions had somehow become stitched into the back of his leather jacket for all to see.

Shuffling uncomfortably on the stool, he gnawed his concerns into his lip as Rimmer drew back, watching as he unknowingly gathered up his folder and clipboard from the coffee table beside the sofa. 

Maybe he was taking it all a little too seriously. He drummed his half-chewed pencil against the book’s cover, deep in thought. After all, it had been a tough week for Rimmer too. Maybe he'd just been a tad tetchy that night.

“Studying _again_ , eh Listy?” A weasel-smile stretched across hard cheeks as he tucked a pen into his pocket. “Will wonders never cease? I think I'll have to alert the media.” He raised an admonishing eyebrow. “Well I suppose it's a better use of your spare time than attending to more intimate, personal gratifications.” 

As he crossed past him once again, Rimmer leant in, conspiratorial. “Oh, and here's a pro-tip,” he whispered in his ear. “In order to study more effectively, it often works better to have the book _open_.”

As the taller man strode out, Lister flipped the book open once again with renewed vigour as a cheeky grin stretched out luxuriant across his features. Sod being merciful. The man was smegging well asking for it.

In the end, it didn't prove to be too difficult to extract and replicate the memory files he needed from the Hologram Simulation Suite. The sensory feedback from their previous trysts had all been electronically logged and stored on file along with all of the other lesser interesting daily observations.

Lister chuckled wickedly at the final, distilled lines of code that would serve as his partner in crime. On the surface they looked like a random jumble of numbers; but together they would form the programmed sensory stimuli for one _hell_ of a simulated orgasm.

Yet despite his schoolboy eagerness to exact his revenge, he'd have to wait for the precise moment where two particular conditions could both click into place. Firstly, it would have to be a day when the group remained on _Red Dwarf_ rather than venturing out on _Starbug_ in order for him to have direct network access to the Hologram Simulation Suite. And secondly, it would have to be a day when both he and Rimmer would be on the Drive Room shift at the same time.

It was another four days before he got his chance.

Yawning widely until gleaming white fangs displayed, the Cat dropped out of his stretch with an audible huff as his ears clocked onto two familiar sets of footsteps on the staircase.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” he yowled as Lister and Rimmer trudged into the Drive Room. “Changeover was twenty minutes ago, man! You've got me lagging behind on my snooze schedule.”

Rimmer shot his bunkmate a pointed look as he hustled Kryten out of the navigation chair. “ _Someone_ was too hungover to wake up, even when they ‘snoozed’ their alarm clock by tossing it down into my bunk.”

As the Cat leapt gratefully out of the pilot seat, dark eyes rolled as Lister slumped down into it. “Yeah, well _someone_ is whining so much that it's making my head hurt,” he bit back.

Rimmer was already ignoring him it seemed, instead focusing his attentions on Kryten as he stooped to recap the night flight course before offering his suggested plotting projections for the upcoming day. 

The navigational techno-babble meant very little to him - they each had their specialities and they stuck with them. Lister swivelled back to the Cat expectantly. “Anything to report?” he prompted.

The Cat snorted dismissively. “I steered the trash-can all night and didn't crash into any planetoids.” He quickly checked his reflection with a fold-away mirror before replacing it in his jacket pocket. “What more do you need to know?” 

Lister flicked an eyebrow as the feline sloped towards the staircase. “Yeah, thanks Cat,” he said flatly. “Most helpful.”

That said, with Rimmer and Kryten on the last dregs of their conversation, he was now free to enact stage one of his plan. With a quick glance over his shoulder to check that he wasn't being watched, he called up a remote access link to the Hologram Simulation Suite. Allowing himself a mischievous grin, he inputted the first line of code.

Handover complete, Rimmer blinked strangely as Kryten straightened, his shoulders stiffening in response to another certain part of his anatomy having similar ideas.

Whilst this had been a normal, daily occurrence whilst he was alive - as indeed it had been for the vast majority of men who still retained breathing privileges - getting random stiffies outside of direct sexual stimuli was _not_ something that happened if you were a hologram. 

Now that he was dead, there was no morning wood to battle with. No need to less-than-surreptitiously cross his legs in the middle of inane, unrelated conversations. Instead, the usual intricacies of hologramamatic replication were actually surprisingly simplistic when it came to the cock. Except for sexual recreation, it was for display purposes only. 

So getting a raging hard-on just as he was about to programme in _Red Dwarf’s_ navigational course was somewhat of a panic-inducing irregularity.

“Come on, y’smegger!” Lister chided pointedly. “Unless you want me flying in circles all mornin’, I’m gonna need you to plot me a course!”

Kryten crossed to his human master who quickly hid the suspicious tab from his screen that was the cause of the whole delay. “Why, Mr Rimmer’s navigational calculations should be through any minute now, sir,” he assured. At the distinct lack of technical data, Kryten prodded the hologram verbally with a marked cough. “Any minute now, sir?”

Lister bit back a smirk that threatened to conquer his face. “You alright there, man?” he asked innocently, trying to keep his voice as level as possible as he surreptitiously inputted the next line of code.

“Of course,” Rimmer fired back, flustered. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Everything’s -- ” Pinched eyes sank closed as an unseen finger trailed teasingly up the length his cock. “ -- _oh!-oh!_ \-- ’kay.”

“Oh-oh-kay then,” Lister echoed teasingly. “It's just that you sound a tad,” he cleared his throat deliberately, “ _distracted_.”

“Nnn-not in the slightest,” Rimmer parried back, although the undeniable tremors in his voice suggested the opposite.

Joining Rimmer back at the console, Kryten dipped his head to study the still-empty input box on the navigation screen that blinked steadily in patient wait. “Do you need me to plot today’s course for you, sir?”

“No, no - no need!” Rimmer hurriedly pushed Kryten upright, shifting his crotch tighter under the desk for fear of poking the unsuspecting mechanoid’s eye out. “I can - ” he paused, breath hitching as an invisible hand cupped his balls, squeezing them gently, “ - _handle it,_ ” he finished, his voice now two octaves higher than normal.

Lister strained against the giggles that begged for escape. Instead, he chewed fervently on one of his dreadlocks in a toothy grin as turmeric-stained fingers tapped chirpily at the keyboard. 

Rimmer whimpered as an invisible thumb began to circle on _that_ spot just below the head, the sweat beginning to stand out cold on his temples. He needed to get rid of Kryten, and quickly.

“You know what, Krytie?” he announced a little too cheerfully. The melody of his voice slid wildly up and down his tonal range like a puberty-ridden schoolboy’s as a slick, unseen hand _slid_ up and down his shaft. “I - _ah!_ \- I could _really_ do with a cup - _oh! OH!_ \- OF tea right about now.”

Two pairs of eyes regarded him oddly. Rimmer had always been ridiculously strict with his ‘no drinks whilst operating the consoles’ rule. Not that anybody had ever abided by this command of course, apart from its own creator.

“But I - ? Of course,” Kryten replied slowly. “If it will make your morning shift more palatable.” He chewed thoughtfully over the prospect before brightening as he turned to Lister. “Would you care for a hot beverage too, sir?”

Lister chuckled to himself as he swivelled back in his chair, shaking his head. “Oh, I'm good here thanks, man!” he smirked. With a sneaky glance over his shoulder, he double-tapped the button beside him.

The effect was immediate. Rimmer gave a shuddered gasp as the invisible hand began to pump rhythmically, sending his nostrils and vocal chords twitching. _“Oh, sh-!”_

His exclamation had been quiet but nonetheless audible. Kryten turned back to him curiously. “Sir?”

With his mouth still stuck enunciating the beginnings of the expletive, hazel eyes tracked back to Kryten self-consciously. “ -- _shh_ -sugar!” Rimmer ground out, correcting himself with the grating of gears. The invisible hand pumped faster, sending his eyelids bobbing dizzily at the feathery fluttering that was beginning to gather in his gut. “Don't forget the sugar, Krytie!” he breathed.

Lister sighed. Okay, that had been a bit mean. He deleted back a few lines.

Kryten jerked in surprise. “Sugar? Why, you’re usually a ‘milk only’ man, if I'm not mistaken, sir?”

Just as Rimmer panted towards the point of no return - simultaneously wondering how the hell he would explain why the prospect of tea with sugar could make him come in his own trousers - the invisible grasp suddenly released him with a gasp that left him half-relieved, half-bereft. 

He blinked back to reality to find he'd left his mouth gaping open in the suspicious silence that currently clung to the air. Rimmer’s gaze darted around awkwardly before he straightened with an authoritative clear of the throat, allowing a familiar scowl to settle on his features.

“And who’s to say I'm not allowed to dabble in a little sugar once in a while, you blathering bog-bot?” He bit back breathlessly. “Presumably there's some sort of Space Corps Directive which forbids crewmembers from changing their minds about how they take their tea? Just get on with it!”

Lister frowned in reprimand at the hologram’s insults as he began to program in the final coding. _Wrong move, smeghead._

Kryten’s rubber features gurned in confused apology. “Begging your pardon, Mr Rimmer, sir,” he replied, flustered. “I didn't mean to question your tea-drinking approaches. How many sugars would you like?”

Hazel eyes flew wide as an unseen mouth closed itself around his cock before sinking slowly southwards. Rimmer gripped the sides of his navigation desk with a strength that threatened to permanently indent the metal with his handprints. _“FU-!! Fff-!!”_

The mechanoid’s smooth brow pinched as he attempted to decipher his master’s wishes. “Five?” he echoed curiously. “That's highly unorthodox if you don't mind me saying so, sir.”

Rimmer slapped his palms on the console, shooting him a manic grin through gritted teeth. “I _really_ need the sugar today!” he strained.

The mechanoid backed away slowly, humouring him with a nod. Judging by the way the hologram was twitching like a squirrel on steroids, he really didn't think he did. 

At the sound of Kryten’s footsteps on the staircase, Lister plastered on his poker face before wheeling back to face him. “You sure you’re okay?” he fished, knowing full well what would be reeled in.

 _“OH SMEGGING - !”_ With a great deal of effort, Rimmer extracted himself from underneath the console, where the fit was now somewhat tighter than before. “Lister, you've got to help me!”

Lister had the good grace to appear somewhat shocked. “With that?” he nodded with a grin to his straining erection before regarding him through one eye. “Here? I thought you said that would be _unprofessional?_ ”

“Not like that, you goit!” Rimmer spat back. “There's some kind of glitch in my projection!”

Lister tilted his head in allowance as he allowed himself to stare in open appreciation. “A _big_ glitch,” he observed.

Rimmer’s eyebrows knitted together as the ghostly tongue trailed a path up his shaft; an act which soon sent them unravelling desperately. “ _Fu-! FU-!_ \-- for smeg’s sake! Log in to the Hologram Projection feed! Get it to stop!”

Lister swivelled back to the screen to enact the pretence, making an Oscar-worthy performance of what was actually a quick click between open tabs. “Uh-huh. I see the problem,” he tutted pointedly as he assessed the readouts, like a dodgy mechanic under the hood of a car bonnet. “Your sensory feedback is spiking off the scale.”

Shuddering visibly as the tongue twirled around the head of his cock, Rimmer glared at him, incredulous. “You think?!” he spluttered.

“Let me see,” Lister drawled, reining back a wicked grin as he prepped the next few lines of code. “Is _this_ helping?”

Rimmer moaned gutturally as the tongue flicked teasingly back and forth across the head. “No -- ” he managed, although a gasping _yes_ begged to usurp it.

“Hmm.” Lister shook his head, mock-solemn. “How about this?”

The tongue flicked harder and faster. “Oh! OH! _OH!_

“Oh, _dear_ ,” Lister laboured, anchoring his chin in a cupped hand as he lazily tapped out more commands. “Maybe this?”

_“OHBLOODYBUGGERINGFUCK!”_

“I'm guessin’ that's not right either,” he observed dryly before shrugging in dramatic defeat. “Well, I'm outta ideas, man.”

Rimmer’s head jerked up to him aghast. “You can't - be serious?! - You can't - leave me - like this!” he panted rhythmically.

The Scouser held his hands aloft. “Well, as much as I'd love to assist you with your evident lack of sexual inhibitions, as an on-duty representative of this vessel, I really must focus on pilotin’.” He finally allowed his smirk to surface. “See, _some_ of us are endeavouring to keep our professional and personal lives separate.”

As Rimmer’s attention snagged on the all-too-familiar turns of phrase, Lister knew the penny was about to drop. Realisation lit across the hologram’s features before clouding them dangerously. 

“Oh, you _bastard_ ,” he growled. 

Revelling in the glorious moment of revelation, Lister bit his lower lip in a cheeky rodent-esque grin, nodding furiously before changing the coding once again. 

“You complete and utter ba-! _ah! ah!_ ” The sucking began a merciless, bobbing rhythm that rendered the hologram devoid of all capability of speech.

Rimmer’s hands shot out to brace himself between the chair’s armrest and the console. His eyes pinched closed, infuriated and blissfully delirious, as Lister quite literally pushed his buttons; working him up into a jabbering, incoherent frenzy.

For a moment, he held him there; stranded and quivering deliciously on the peak of ecstasy, entirely at his mercy. A string of garbled expletives and broken pleas tumbled from his mouth until _finally_ , Lister’s finger gave a single, smug tap at the keyboard.

******

In the kitchenette above, a strained, high-pitched whine grew in urgency and volume. Lights flickering wildly above him, Kryten almost dropped the empty mug in shock as the kettle and toaster began to fizz and spark with a life of their own. 

Suddenly, with a final _squeal_ , the fuses and lightbulbs blew simultaneously, leaving the mechanoid literally and metaphorically in the dark.

He cursed in machine code. These power glitches had been getting rather frequent of late.

A frown twisted at rubber features as he fumbled blindly to return the mug to the cupboard. Oh, forget it. He'd ask one of the vending machines instead. _Five sugars, indeed._

******

In the red glow of the emergency lighting, they sat in silence.

Spent, Rimmer’s shoulders heaved with a little more than the exertion as Lister tugged out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He flashed the dazed hologram a wink before pulling one out with his lips. 

“So how was it for you?” Lister asked in lost consonants as he lit it, nonchalant.

The overhead lights flickered sporadically before pulsing back into life.

Gasping in a cocktail of rage and relief, Rimmer still struggled to form coherent sentences. “That - !” he panted with a scowl. “That was _the_ most -- !” 

With a low hum, the consoles too emerged from their darkness, blinking unsteadily back online once again.

Rimmer’s eyebrows pinched in disbelief as he finally puddled bonelessly into his chair, unable to maintain the anger any longer. He ran a hand through his now-mussed curls. “Blimey.”

Lister leant back in his chair with a smoky sigh and crossed his legs on the console that beeped its affront in response. He flicked off the loose ash with a cocky smile. When it came to getting the man off, he was nothing if not professional.


End file.
